I Wasn’t Great at Sharing… Until I Was

I’m an only child. So, all things considered in my slightly out-of-the-ordinary upbringing, I didn’t have to worry much about sharing. That doesn’t mean I was bad at it — I just resented it sometimes.

Take first grade, for example. That’s when I met Kenny.

I remember very little about him. In fact, the only thing I really remember is that he had the same birthday as me. And to first-grade Melanie? That was not cool.

If I remember correctly, Kenny and I were in the same class all the way through fifth grade. So every year, I had to share my celebratory day.

I hear you. You’re judging me. What a little snot, you’re thinking.

I get it. I don’t blame you.

But that changed. Years later, I met Aransas. She was barely 30. I was nearly 35. And for the first time since fifth grade, I knew someone else born on March 13.

The difference? I was born on Friday the 13th. She wasn’t. So I still claim the right to be a little weirder than her.

Over the 20+ years we’ve known each other, we’ve had a couple of joint dinners to celebrate — and a couple more with just the two of us and our husbands.

But this year? This year was something really special.

We both hit milestone birthdays — my 55th and her 50th — and we spent the day together at her second annual Uplifters event. There was never a question of doing anything else that day.

And just last week, the professional photos from that day landed in my inbox — and I’ve been reflecting on what an extraordinary way it was to celebrate our birthdays.

It was an incredible experience — a room filled with incredible women, all led by this incredible mentor/friend/coach. We blew out candles on cupcakes. And I got to read a story on stage.

If you know me, you know I don’t shy away from a stage. And you also know I’m an open book. I’ve shared before about growing up as a gymnast and the verbal abuse I experienced — in blog posts, on social media, and now on my podcast, Lighten Up: The Art of Living Clutter Free. But this time, even standing in front of 100+ women, I mentioned some of the physical abuse, too — something I hadn’t really shared publicly before.

And I felt safe doing it — looking into those eyes, in that room. Only Aransas could create that kind of space.

I’m so lucky to share a birthday with her.

So… if you ever meet a guy from New York City named Kenny who was born on March 13, let him know I’m sorry.

I don’t mind sharing anymore.

And thanks to Facebook… I now know even more people with the same birthday. And honestly? It’s kinda cool.